


Rien n'est tel que le rêve pour engendrer l'avenir.

by Erensbyotch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Dreams vs. Reality, Grantaire is finally happy, M/M, Wedding Fluff, Weddings, alternative universe, better not read this thing, happy couple, if you're too happy, remember that I love you and I love the babies, very gay couple too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 01:52:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4985425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erensbyotch/pseuds/Erensbyotch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're gonna be happy, and then you're gonna suffer. And then you're not gonna be happy about it.</p>
<p>Or, to write an actual summary because I'm so bad at it, Grantaire lives a beautiful wedding. Then something not so beautiful happens. </p>
<p>(inspired from the tumblr blog otpprompts)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rien n'est tel que le rêve pour engendrer l'avenir.

_This story, just like many more, is dedicated to someone._

_This time is to you, Grantaire._

_You will be happy, sweetheart._

_Pinky promise._

 

Grantaire lift up his eyes, slightly hurting his eyelids with the lights that is now irrupting from the windows of the church.

He's forced to close them again, before taking first one, then two, then ten, then even more deep breaths. He just can't believe this. He cannot understand how all of this is even possible. Everything feels so surreal that when he opens his eyes again, what he sees leaves him breathless, despite all the air he got in just a moment ago.

Because now, the one that is walking down the aisle is the love of his life. And Grantaire had never believed he would have lived long enough to relish that moment.

That man that is now almost in front of him, that Adonis with convictions like steel and a soul like fire, so beautiful that the only sight of him makes Grantaire's chest hurts ... that fine marble is soon to be his husband.

The one that was once known as the "drunker", cannot now think of a more delightful wine than the sweetness of Apollo's lips, of his skin, of the love that he had, incredibly, shown for him.

He finds himself looking at the man speechless, stunned. Is this real? Is it really happening to him, all of it?

The smile upon Enjolras' face is the confirmation to all his doubts. It' is true. And it is the best day of his life.

Without even taking the time to think about it, he holds the other's hand in his own before facing the priest. The sacred function has begun.

The man talks for what feels like hours, but Grantaire doesn't hear a word. The only thing that's in his mind is Enjolras' warm hand, his presence right beside him. And the two wedding rings that are right now in front of his eyes, brought by a pageboy he hadn't even noticed. R isn't noticing a lot, actually, and maybe that's a shame. But right now, nothing seems to matter more than Enjolras and the promise they're about to make.

He clears his throat, interrupting the priest that was finally turning at the end of his speech.

Ignoring the man's confused gaze ― and pretty sure that a same one has just born in Apollo's eyes, Grantaire takes a deep breath, trying to find the courage to pronounce all those stupid words that have been wandering around his mind since that very morning.

He had promised himself he would have made a brilliant speech. Something that would have raised the hearts, amazed the men and moved the women. Or something that would have made a man or two cry as well, why not? Jehan, for example, looked like he was ready to faint.

Something that Enjolras would have said with his incredible oratorical skills.

But he wasn't Enjolras. He was Grantaire, the drunken and the artist. The one that knew how to speak with paintings, not words. But carrying a hidden paint to the altar wouldn't have been easier, and the speech he's about to begin is the only thing that he could get together. Before starting to talk he only wishes that, at least, his best is enough.

« I just wanted to say a few words, that in such an event seem to me as close as a duty. Don't worry, I won't say anything romantic or cheesy or whatever. I will be as short and sincere as I can, because more than that I am not capable of.

Apollo ― don't make that face, you know that's your name ― I've spent my entire life looking for something, something not even I knew what it was. But when you find me, it felt like I didn't need to look anymore. As if I had finally found my home. You gave me something worth fighting for and the strength to fight for it. And for that and much more, I thank you, even if I know that would never be enough. That's it. »

He finishes his speech as fast as he can, perfectly knowing that this wasn't the "romantic love declaration" the guests, and maybe Apollo himself, were waiting for. He actually has many more things to say, but just can't. Every thought seems so stupid, so dull it's almost embarrassing.

But after a moment he no longer cares about it, because Enjolras is smiling. That wonderful smile that makes for R and for R only when he does something stupid or during a particular tender moment that follows something that it better not say in such a consecrated place. Enjolras smiles, and for the million time in two years Grantaire wonders what he must have done to deserve such an angel in his life.

To his speech, all that Enjolras says is just whispered « I love you », but even if that would seems so dull to some, those two words represent an entire world to Grantaire. The blonde has always been better at words than he was.

The priest smiles as well, and after a small nod he goes on with the simple questions the two grooms-to-be have been waiting to hear for way too much time.

And when Enjolras finally says "yes", Grantaire knows for sure that he'll never feel so blissfully happy as he feels now.

When the priest gives his blessing to the kiss, R doesn't waste a second. He puts his lips close to the other man's, slowly, as if he doesn't want to ruin such a perfect moment.

He smells his scent, the flavor of his skin, he feels in his soul that moment so full of promises of a future together ...

 

 

 

 

 

And then Grantaire opens his eyes, waking up.   

He can feel the tears streaming down his face because when he reaches out to the other side of the bed he finds it empty, and cold. 

He's now alone in his bed, and he will be for the rest of his life.

Because Enjolras died in that riot. Whatever dream he had of a life together, is nothing more than a pointless dream.

He cannot stop the tears as he recalls the last time he's seen Enjolras. It was a church as well, but there was no wedding.

Only a French flag upon a coffin and the words that Grantaire wished so bad he could have said, holding his lover's hand and facing that frightening death right beside him.  

« Do you permit it? »

**Author's Note:**

> This story was born in a time that happiness was not easy for me to find (first day of school fellas), and I'm sorry. This time, Grantaire did not die alongside Enjolras.  
> I want to add that I actually wrote this story a year ago and this is just a translation from the italian form (as you can say, english is not my mother tongue. I really hope you won't find many mistakes. If so, now you know that it's because I'm an ignorant swine). So you can hate past-me for this if you want, present-me is half innocent.  
> If you're interested in reading the italian version as well, here is the link to it: http://www.efpfanfic.net/viewstory.php?sid=2829221&i=1 
> 
> Well, what can I say? I really hope you guys liked it, at least a little tiny bitty bit.  
> It was not meant to make you cry.  
> (who am I kidding? hell if it was)


End file.
